


Vanilla Twilight

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, First Kisses, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:39:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble prompted by tumblr: WenDip prompt: We're both really tired and we're saying things that are things we would never admit if we knew what we're saying</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vanilla Twilight

“You know, you’re kinda cute, for a younger guy.” Dipper can feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He’s fifteen now, and he tells himself he shouldn’t be flushing so easily. It’s ridiculous.  _You’re a man now, stop acting like a little kid_ , he can hear his uncle saying in the back of his mind.

“Oh yeah? Well, m-maybe you’re cute, for an older woman.” He laughs awkwardly, and inwardly berates himself.  _Crap! That sounds bad!_

Wendy just laughs at him. They’re sitting up on the roof like they always used to when he was younger. Not that a lot has changed - there was just the one-year gap, when Mabel had to go to summer school and as much as Dipper wanted to come, he couldn’t leave his sister behind.

From what he could tell, that summer was a nightmare without them. And he was pretty sure that wasn’t just Wendy being nice - Soos had said something about it too. Even Robbie was glad to see them back, and as far as Dipper was concerned…that was really saying something.

“Thanks, I guess,” she says. “Way to make a girl feel old,  _short stuff_.”

“I’m not that short,” Dipper grumbles. He reclines back so that he’s resting on his hands, stealing awkward side-glances at Wendy. She’s taken the hate off for the time being, and he can see little beads of sweat on her forehead from where it had been resting. He has to pull his eyes away, tugging on the hem of his shirt. His hat is still on, and he’s afraid of how bad his hair would look if he were to take it off. 

He never used to care about things like that, but the older he gets the more important it all seems. “At least you take baths now,” she says, scrunching her nose. “And wash your clothes. You were such a smelly little kid!”

Dipper hears himself make a whining noise of protest, but there’s nothing to really argue with. He’s just embarrassed. “I was a busy guy back then!” he says, but it’s a weak defense. He wasn’t  _that_  busy.

“And you’re not busy now?” she asks. The way Wendy has her eyebrows cocked, it seems like a double entendre. Dipper hunches his shoulders, trying to think of a good response that won’t embarrass him further if he’s wrong. “What, you don’t have a girlfriend?” she asks.

Oh, that. “Eh,” he rubs the back of his head. “No, not really.” He lets himself lay back a bit. As long as his feelings aren’t on the line, he can relax. He could talk about anything now. “There are a couple of girls who seem interested.” He realizes that he’s tired. He’s done a lot of running around today, saying hi to everyone he’s missed. “But none of them are you.”

He claps a hand over his mouth as soon as the words leave it. He can’t believe he’s said something so massive and so cheesy. Something so bad and incriminating. He wants to apologize, but he’s frozen to the spot. He can’t get his hand off his face.

Wendy humphs. “You’re sweet,” she says. She turns over to look at him, and there’s something odd about the look in her eyes. He’s sure he’s read about that expression before, but it’s never been directed at him. He doesn’t know how to react to it. “None of the boys here are like you.”

And then she has her hand on the side of his face, and somehow the hand that was covering his mouth has clenched into a fist at the side of his face. There’s something frightening and wonderful in the way she moves close enough to press their lips together once, softly, and pulls away, resting her hand back on his stomach.

He thinks he might go back to not taking showers. He doesn’t want the feeling to die away. 

He watches her eyes close as she sighs. His mind is racing a hundred miles an hour and he think he might just explode. Can they do that again? Can they not do anything else? His tongue darts out over his lips as he tries to think of something to say, some way to maneuver the situation because he doesn’t want to be eighteen and too late some day.

“Don’t worry about it, dude,” she says. She’s smirking, like he’s been saying all this out loud. But maybe she just knows him too well. “You’ll be eighteen soon.”


End file.
